The Duchy of Kargoss lies in the northwestern reaches of the Arethian Empire, where wind-carved hills give way to rugged highlands and dry, heather-strewn slopes. Though semi-arid along much of its interior, the land is far from barren. Hardy grasses blanket the hills, nourishing the famed Kargossi sheep—large-horned, thick-wooled beasts that serve as both livelihood and symbol of the duchy’s resilience.
Kargoss borders the sea to the west, its coastline cut by cliffs and narrow river mouths, and rises toward harsher mountain ranges along its eastern frontier. For centuries, the duchy has stood as a shield against eastern sea raiders and encroaching threats. Its people are not lavish courtiers nor sprawling city-builders; they are watchers, shepherds, and warriors shaped by wind and stone.
Though fiercely loyal to the empire, Kargoss retains a distinct cultural identity rooted in clan bonds and ancestral pride. Many families trace their lineage to early sea raiders who settled these shores generations ago, blending with local highland folk to create a culture both martial and pastoral. Loyalty is not given lightly—but once sworn, it is unbreakable.
House Dunrath rules Kargoss from its inland stronghold, carrying a reputation for stern justice and unyielding defense. Their sigil—a ram’s head with sweeping horns—represents strength, endurance, and territorial resolve. Much like the Kargossi sheep, Dunrath does not seek conflict, but will charge fiercely when provoked.
The Dunrath line is known for distinctive green eyes and strong, angular features that reflect generations of hardened leadership. The current Duke, @Duke Alastair Dunrath, upholds traditions of personal oversight, frequently riding the hills and visiting villages rather than ruling solely from the throne.
House Dunrath’s power rests not on opulence but on respect. Clan leaders gather at their call, and even remote shepherd families answer the duke’s banners in times of danger. Their rule is steady, practical, and grounded in the belief that Kargoss must always be prepared for the storm on the horizon.
Highbrae Keep rises from a semi-arable sweep of rolling hills dotted with grazing flocks and scattered pine stands. Built from pale stone quarried locally, the keep is practical rather than ornate—thick walls, stout towers, and a great hall warmed by roaring hearthfires.
The surrounding lands include Dunrath’s private hunting grounds, where deer and wild boar roam among rocky outcrops and sparse woodland. The keep commands a broad view of the countryside, a constant reminder that vigilance defines Kargoss leadership.
Within its Great Hall stands a simple but imposing throne of carved oak, adorned only with subtle knotwork and the ram sigil. Tartan banners hang from the rafters, and long wooden tables host clan gatherings during feast days and councils alike. Highbrae is less a palace and more a fortress-home—a seat of endurance.
Braewick lies in the more arable southern lands of Kargoss, where the hills soften and soil grows richer. It is a village of open fields, grazing pens, and communal labor. The Sunridge Inn, Market Hall, and communal shearing sheds serve as the heart of daily life.
Here, wool is king. Braewick’s shearing season is both work and celebration, drawing families together in cooperative effort. The rhythmic snip of blades and low murmur of conversation fill the sheds, while smiths and traders barter tools and textiles.
Though peaceful in appearance, Braewick maintains quiet readiness. Many farmers train with spear and shield after dusk, and its people remember that prosperity depends upon vigilance.
At the mouth of the River Caerwyn, where it meets the Western Colldrian Ocean, stands Caerport—a windswept harbor settlement of stone warehouses, timber docks, and beacon towers. Salt and wool move through its wharves in steady commerce, bound for imperial markets.
The Caerport Woolhouse dominates trade, while Brinehook Wharf hosts fishing vessels and patrol ships alike. The Cliffwatch Beacon Tower stands ready to light warning fires should raiders approach.
Caerport embodies Kargoss’ dual nature: shepherd and sentinel. Its taverns echo with seafarers’ tales, but beneath the laughter lies discipline. The Adventurer’s Guild maintains contracts here, ensuring threats—whether pirate or monstrous—are addressed swiftly.
Nestled near the dark waters of The Deep, Dourloch is smaller and quieter than Caerport, its buildings built low against cold winds that sweep off the lake. Mist clings to its reeds and peat fields, and the Hollowed Hearth Tavern offers warmth against the damp chill.
A lookout and small Dunrath garrison oversee the area, for Dourloch stands closest to the duchy’s greatest mystery. Shepherds here speak softly of shapes beneath the water and sounds carried over still nights.
Despite its unease, Dourloch endures. Timber from surrounding larchwoods supports the village, and its smithy and chapel anchor daily life in faith and practicality. The people are wary—but not weak.
The Deep is a vast, dark freshwater lake whose depths remain unmeasured. Its surface is often unnervingly still, reflecting sky and cloud like polished obsidian. Yet on certain nights, ripples move without wind.
Legends tell of a colossal shape seen breaking the surface—long-necked and immense, vanishing before witnesses can fully comprehend it. Fishermen have disappeared. Boats have returned cracked along the keel.
Whether beast, ancient spirit, or something stranger still, The Deep commands respect. Some scholars speculate it may be a relic of an older age. Locals offer quiet prayers before approaching its shore. Whatever lies beneath, it has endured longer than any clan memory.
Kargossi culture is clan-centered and deeply communal. Family names carry weight, and gatherings often feature tartan garments marking lineage and allegiance. Music—particularly fiddle, Bagpipe and drum—fills feast halls during winter nights, while poetry and oral storytelling preserve history.
Livestock farming dominates daily life, especially the raising of Kargossi sheep. Their thick wool is prized across the empire, and their sweeping horns appear in carvings, jewelry, and banners. The ram symbolizes not aggression, but steadfast defiance.
Honor is practical rather than ceremonial. Oaths are binding. Hospitality is sacred. A traveler offered hearth and bread is under protection—until that trust is broken.
Above all, Kargoss values resilience. Its people endure harsh climates, uncertain waters, and the looming shadow of The Deep with the same quiet strength that has defined them for generations.